A Delicate Balance
by MushroomAnn and dentedsky
Summary: Harry has a plan. He made a mistake and now he's going to fix it. No matter what or who the sacrifice is. Slash Harry and young!Sirius. Complete.
1. EMETH

Summary: Harry has a plan. He made a mistake and now he's going to fix it. No matter what (or who) the sacrifice is.

Rating: R.

Pairing: Harry/Sirius.

* * *

**Emeth**

1998, May 22

_3 Lacewing Flies - stewed 21 days.  
5 Leaches - fresh.  
1 Bicorn Horne - powdered.  
7 Panaeolus Cyanescens Hawaiian Mushrooms - air dried  
1 handful Fluxweed - picked at full moon.  
1 handful of Knotgrass - picked at dark phase of the moon.  
2 Boomslangs Skin - shredded.  
1 Hair of whom to be resurrected.  
7 Mandrake Roots - Mature.  
1 Human Sacrifice - fresh.  
1 Solution of Sulphur, Mercury, and Salt.  
6 Metals of the Planets: Gold, Silver - liquid, Iron - for males, Quicksilver, Tin, Copper - for females, Lead._

He reread his list for what seemed like the hundredth time. _1 human sacrifice - fresh_. That was the only ingredient he was still missing.

Harry was no longer the rash boy who would act first and think later. Getting Sirius killed taught him his lesson. This time his plan was well calculated. He had been working on it for nearly two years now, going through every book in the Restricted Section of the Hogwarts library and every dark arts book in Grimmauld Place, ordering ingredients from all over the world, studying the incantations, composing the ceremony, and improving his Potions performances, actually paying attention to Snape for a change.

His friends had no idea of course. Nobody knew what he was planning. When he spent the last few months with his head buried in a book with the strange title _'Sefer Hayetzira'_, reciting bizarre meaningless words - nobody seemed to notice. All the seventh year students were busy revising for their upcoming NEWTS, having their own heads stuck in one book or another. They conveniently assumed Harry was doing the same. Hermione would have noticed if she had not been a nervous wreck frantically memorising every written text she could find, and Ron… he might have noticed if he had not been too busy memorising her breasts. After all, he was a healthy normal seventeen-year-old boy… And _he _had no dead godfather to worry about.

Harry waited until his Housemates stopped turning in their beds and snores filled the air. He quietly got up, wore his Invisibility Cloak, grabbed his Firebolt and left the castle. Once he was out the big front doors, he got on his broom and took off into the night. The air was cold and the sky dark, the moon only a thin streak of silver, like the Cheshire Cat's smile. He passed the Hogwarts gates with its winged boars statues, and Apparated to Little Whinging.

He flew, unseen, over the houses and the park, watching the streets and places he could never call his home, searching for someone he wished was never a relative. It did not take long before loud vulgar singing and the sounds of breaking glass led him to Dudley and his gang. They were saying their goodbyes, smashing their empty bottles of beer on the pavement, leaving Dudley sitting on a park bench drunk and alone. Just as Harry knew he would be from previews observation. Just as Harry had hoped.

He took a small flask filled with green liquid out of his robes' pocket, something he ordered from a not-so-legal store down Knockturn Ally. The label on the glass read _'The Draught of the Living Death'_. He uncorked it, approached his oblivious cousin, and stealthily poured a few drops into the beer bottle Dudley was holding. He waited nervously, biting his nails and peeling the skin around them with his teeth, for Dudley to sip his drink.

After a few stressful minutes, Dudley finally put the bottle to his lips and emptied it all. The next second he was already on the floor, unmoving. Sound asleep. Harry lifted him onto his broom and made sure they were both covered completely by the cloak.

Flying with so much extra weight was not easy, and by the time he reached the forest clearing, where he was planning to have the ceremony in, he was already exhausted. He landed near a small stream, cast a Disillusionment and Unplottable Charms on Dudley, and a protective charm - so he would not be eaten by anything, and hid his sleeping body behind some bushes. Then he Appareted back outside of Hogwarts.

Nobody would know he ever left the castle, just like they had never found out about all the other times that he did. The perfect alibi. He expected the Muggle police would look for the missing Dudley, but unless someone would trip over him accidentally, they would never be able to find him.

That was it. He was really doing it. Three more days and his life would change forever. Things would be _right _again.

First part of the plan finished.

1998 May 25

Resurrecting the dead was extremely difficult, but not impossible. There were ways. Unfortunately, his situation was a bit more complicated. There were books about awaking the dead; it was even quite simple if you had the body, which Harry had not. Of course, those methods would only get the _body _alive and not the actual _person_, or in other words - create a zombie, so Harry was not interested in them anyway. Another ritual could create a body, a ritual Harry had the misfortune of experiencing from up close, using the bones of the father, flesh of the servant, and blood of the enemy… However, you would need the soul for that one. Harry did not have _that _either.

Therefore, he was left with no choice but to create a whole new kind of ritual. That was why it took him so long. He mixed together everything he could find: transformation potions, _'Skele-Grow'_, Elemental Magic, Kabbalistic texts, secret herbs, old long forgotten spells… He even found a way to reach Anubis, the God of the Dead. Or as he preferred to be called - _Ann_. Apparently it was not a coincidence the ancient Egyptians used to draw him wearing a skirt, as he turned up to be a sissyish cross-dressing kind of god. Harry did not argue and tried hard to keep himself from staring at the god's shaved legs.

Ann was the one who informed Harry he would need the human sacrifice. "You see," the god told Harry with a voice too high and queenly for someone with a dog's head, "there must be a balance between the dead and the living. I can not give away a soul without getting another in return."

It was not easy deciding whom to use. Many names went through his head: Draco Malfoy, Snape, Filch, Colin Creevey… But the moment the name Dudley popped up into his mind, his choice was made. Dudley was a fat, ugly, horrible person, who terrorised everyone. Nothing good could ever come out of him. Everyone, except perhaps his parents, would be happy to see him gone. And Harry would be getting Sirius back - a handsome brave man, that everybody loved. A warrior against the dark. By replacing Dudley with him, He was helping making this world a better place, as everyone always expected of him, even if in another way than they meant for him to do so. It was not as if he was a murderer or anything. _Really_. He was just helping to replace someone bad with someone good. It was a _noble deed_. And it was not selfish at all, he was not doing it for himself, he was doing it for _Sirius_. Harry would actually be doing the world a favour … Or at least that was what he kept telling himself.

He waited for everyone to go down to dinner and gathered all his most important possessions. He put them in his school bag that he charmed to be spacious enough, left a goodbye letter where he wrote he needed a vacation and asking not be searched for, wrapped himself with his Invisibility Cloak, and left Hogwarts for good.

It was already after six when he reached the spot in the forest where he hid Dudley. The special Yew wood altars he built were hidden there too. All he needed now was to rearrange them - one pointing to the west and the setting sun where he placed his sleeping cousin, and the other pointing to the east where hopefully Sirius would be soon. He then went to the stream and started collecting mud from the water's edge. He carried it all to the empty altar, more and more until he had enough to curve a figure of a human body, and mixed the mud with the potion he concocted.

This potion took him three months to brew. It was actually a combination: _'Skele-Grow'_ - to build Sirius bones, Polyjuice with one of Sirius' hairs - to give the right look, Mandrakes - to help awaking him, and a solution of sulphur mercury and salt - it was what the Alchemists believed were the foundations of the soul, life force, and physical body. Harry guessed it would not hurt to add those too.

He worked the potion with the mud, turning it into pliable clay, the dirt getting beneath his fingernail and smudging his face. But he did not have time to care; the new moon would rise in half an hour. He sculptured a vague shape of a man and took a step back to examine his handiwork. He wrinkled his nose - he would never be an artist…

He placed the collection of metals on the altar. Each metal to represent each planet and its powers. First, he took the solid Quicksilver and stuck it inside the right foot of the clay body. In the other foot, he put the tin. He was a little uncomfortable when he needed to place the piece of lead in the base of what would be his godfather's spine, but eventually bit his lip and pushed his hand as far as he could up between the clay legs. The iron belonged to the metabolic process so he inserted it to the navel. He took the small vial with the liquid silver, opened it, and poured it into the two holes for the eyes were. There was only one more piece of metal, the most expensive and important - gold. He placed it where the heart should be and pushed it in.

The dried mushrooms were to bring enlightenment and awareness, to open the mind. Harry attached them to the statue's head.

He needed to write 'EMETH', the word for Truth in Hebrew, on the clay body's forehead, but he did not want Sirius to be marked like that, where everyone could see. He knew what that felt like. So instead, he used his index finger to engrave the word in a more hidden place, the inside of the right thigh.

That was it - his 'Golem' was ready.

He looked at the sky, and waited for the new moon to appear. Once it was out, he knew he had exactly twenty-five minutes of reciting four hundred and sixty two meaningless letter combinations in a language he did not speak. And it had to be in one sitting, at the correct order and with the right pronunciation… How he wished he were Jewish.

Over a year of studying and rehearsing did the trick and he managed it without a single mistake. But it was not over yet - there was still that soul he promised to Ann, a sacrifice to offer.

Harry took a glass flask filled with black fluid out of his robes' pocket, another parchment from that little store in Knockturn Ally, and walked quickly to the other altar where Dudley rested peacefully and unaware. The flask had the label _'Drink Me'_ on it, which Harry found to be funny because it was mostly made of cyanide… He looked at his watch and then at the sky to see the last rays of sun disappearing over the horizon. It was time. He held his breath and tried not to think about the consequences of this action, tried to ignore the fact that he was actually killing another human being. He emptied the poison down the boy's mouth and watched the slow rise and fall of his chest until it rose no more. Darkness fell upon him. The end of another day. The end of Dudley Dursley.

Now there were nearly eight hours until the sun would rise once more and the final exchange between the souls would be done.

In the meantime, Harry had to get rid of Dudley's corpse - He did not want it to be the first sight Sirius would see when he awoke. It was strange; it did not feel like when he carried Cedric back from the graveyard. Maybe because Harry was more aware of it this time, had more time to think, to feel the coldness of the skin and the stiffening of the body. He seemed to be heavier even than before, as if in spite. So Harry carried him quickly while murmuring some nameless tune to distract his brain and shove away the guilt, and buried him amongst the forest's trees. Digging a hole big enough for such a huge person took most of the night, and by the time he returned to where the altars were he did not have much time to wait.

Harry was counting down the seconds to sunrise. Twilight filled the dark night sky, and then, a few minutes before four AM, the sun emerged.

1998 May 26

A deafening thunder-like roar broke through the peaceful morning silence, making Harry's heart jump to his throat and he nearly chocked on his held breath. White blinding light shot out of the golem's golden heart and Harry was forced to close his eyes against the brightness. Swift winds blew from all directions, filling the air with noise and piercing whistles, and lifting dead leaves from the ground around the clearing, leaving Harry and the altars concealed like in eye of a tornado.

A high-pitched voice called to him through the pandemonium, "The deal is made. One young magic-less soul for another."

_Magic-less?_ "No wait," Harry called back, his eyes still shut against the racket, "Sirius was a wizard!"

"The balance must be kept," Ann's voice answered. "You gave a magic-less adolescent and that is what you will get in return. Those are the rules." In a quieter and less god-like voice, he added, "You should be thankful I was willing to give up one of my loveliest men in exchange for that… _thing_." Harry might have been doing the world a favour by ridding it of Dudley, but now the underworld was to suffer him and it clearly was not pleased. "Goodbye, my pretty green-eyed boy," the god said and disappeared into the raging chaos.

Suddenly a loud single clicking sound was heard above the uproar, and then everything went still.

A gasp through the silence.

Harry removed his hands from his face and opened his eyes.

There he was, his beloved godfather, laying splayed before him. He looked just a little older than in Snape's Pensieve: long silky black hair, fathomless silver-grey eyes, smooth tanned skin, and so very _very _naked…

**TBC**

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Thank you for reading. Please review. 


	2. YOFFY

dentedsky: I want to thank youse all for reviewing so far! It means a lot to us.  
MushroomAnn: I... want... reviews... salivates  
dentedsky: Too right.  
MushroomAnn: Are there many Sirry fans?  
dentedsky: Dunno, mate. I thought I was the only one! I just want to say quickly that the quote about Jesus is stolen from Douglas Adams, alright? Grouse.  
MushroomAnn: And don't forget to review! Because every review you write sends a kangaroo back into Rae's backyard.  
dentedsky: I do believe in kangaroos! I do! I do! D And every review you write also saves Ann from getting bombed for another day.  
MushroomAnn: ... hey!

**Chapter Two - Yoffy**

The Underworld lay morbid under the Earth. It was a maze of black stone corridors and winding rock stair cases, all leading to the lake's edge, where the boatmen steered the souls of the dead to the Realm. 

There would always be a line of souls lining up the cold paths that lead to the pier. Standing just before it, next to a podium with a well-worn book on top, stood Ann. 

He was currently flipping through the book. "Diana, Princess of Wales... Diana, Princess of... oh, here you are!" He quickly squiggled a note in the book and ushered the pearl-adorned woman through. He took a moment to flip open his make-up case and smear on some lip-gloss. 

The gods, who oversaw the mortals of earth, all spoke in a language so ancient, it only existed between them. They could speak all other languages of course, but to each other they spoke in a tongue that sounded similar to Hebrew. 

There was shouting. Roughly translated, the words were: "Ann! You wanky excuse for a freckle between Izzy's big gongs, how DARE you!" 

Ra, the god of the sun, was storming up to the front of the line, furious in all his gold-and-feathered glory. As was the fashion of the gods, he had waxed his legs, put on hordes of make-up and donned a skirt. These days, he only responded to the name of Rae, as if in, 'Ray of Golden Sunshine', only spelt with an 'e' because it was 'hip'. 

He also had the head of a bird. He clicked his beak and ruffled his feathers in irritation as he got to the front of the line. "What _have_ you done?" he demanded, pointing a clawed finger at Ann's canine face. "I come back from my rounds - and what do I hear from that bitch Izzy? You let the Pretty One go!" (Izzy was Isis's groovy new name. She was a stupid gossiper who had the strange habit of marrying her brothers.) 

Ann shrugged nonchalantly and ushered an old man to the dock. "There was nothing I could do. The little wizard boy summoned me with powerful magic." 

Rae stomped his foot and pouted. "You know you can't be forced, especially not by a mortal." He was close to whining now. "Why'd you have to let him go? He was such a beauty to look at… and now we have some ugly lump instead!" 

With one hand Ann picked up the soul of an infant from the ground and sighed. "Did you just come down here to whinge? Or did you have something else to speak to me about?" He gave the infant over to the next person, and murmured politely if they could please carry this over to the pier? 

Rae fiddled with the gold jewellery around his neck. The pupil of one eye was extremely bright, like the sun, but for a moment it seemed to dim. 

He cleared his throat and spoke to Ann sternly. "Actually, what you did was very stupid and irresponsible. The boy you gave the soul to - Barry Trotter?" 

"Harry Potter," replied Ann. 

"Yes him - he's actually very special. You gave a soul to him, and in so doing may have messed with the fate of the mortal world!" 

Ann was confused. "That doesn't make any sense; sorcerers summon me all the time." 

Rae shook his head. "This bloke is one of those people whose death decides the fate of the earth; he's like the next Jesus Christ, or something." 

Ann made a face. "_Who?_" 

Rae waved a hand impatiently. "Oh you know... that guy who died a couple of millennia ago. He was crucified for saying the world could be a better place if only people would be nice to each other." He shook his head sadly. "Stupid sod should have known better." 

Ann was pensive. "Badly in need of a haircut, thought he was the son of God?" 

Rae nodded. "Yes him. So this Hotter person - " 

"Potter," Ann corrected. 

" - can only be killed by his arch nemeses, and his death could make or break this world. By granting him a wish, you could have upset the Balance." 

Ann was still ushering people through distractedly. "It's fine; I made sure to swap a soul with another, all for the Balance." 

"No," said Rae grumpily, "you buggered everything up!" He let out a frustrated breath. "Don't make me split my penis open again, Ann! Osiris was particularly painful to give birth to. If it wasn't for the whole Elvis Presley debacle I'd make him in charge!" 

"You can't make him in charge," the other god said, annoyed, "he's driving the boat." 

"You better just fix it, or I will." 

"Fix what? There's nothing to be fixed!" 

"Either grant Rom Piddle a wish, or bring the Pretty One back where he belongs. You've got until tomorrow's dawn!" 

Rae swivelled around and stomped back up the stairs as best he could in amber-incrusted high-heals. 

After comforting a hysterical Spanish woman and pushing her over to the jetty, Ann flipped through his book. 

Next to every name was a date of death. He looked for Harry Potter, found it, and gasped aloud. 

Beside the name were the words "Date of Death Unknown." 

1998 May 26

Harry could not stop staring. 

His godfather was back, oh god, Sirius was alive! 

A breeze blew past and ruffled Sirius's black hair. He whimpered a little, sitting up and pulling his knees to his chest. He rested his head on his arms and shivered. 

A moment passed wherein Harry was frozen to the spot. He forced himself to take a step forward, and then another. "Sirius?" he called tentatively. 

Sirius slowly lifted his head and looked at Harry with frightened grey eyes. When Harry was just a metre away, he stopped. 

"Harry...?" Sirius whispered softly. 

Harry clenched his fists to stop himself from jumping on Sirius and hugging him. The early morning light filtered through the leaves of the forest, casting little spots of sunshine upon Sirius's soft, tanned skin. He looked like a newborn; his skin was smooth and almost hairless, his eyes wide in both fear and curiosity. 

He was also very young. Harry had seen a couple of photos of a young Sirius and knew him to be a handsome man, and in Snape's pensieve he was only fifteen - but in Harry's mind Sirius had always been a man and not a boy, old enough to be Harry's father. 

But now it was like Harry was just looking at another boy his age - someone he might have gone to school with, perhaps shared a dormitory with, played chess with in the Gryffindor Commons; anything but a guardian who might take him under his wing and look after him like a parent. In fact, Harry was feeling a strange, parental urge himself at that moment. 

Harry came a little closer and stayed there, staring at his godfather as if he were the only light in a dark place. Sirius shivered again. "Cold," he murmured. 

Harry hurriedly took his long cloak off and slung it around Sirius's shoulders. The black fell across his skin and covered him. Sirius fell forward a little, resting his head on Harry's shoulder. 

The next thing Sirius said was muffled against Harry's robes. "Am I alive?" 

Harry felt the prickle of oncoming tears. "Yes," he whispered, and slung an arm around Sirius's shoulders, pulling him forward. 

For the next moment Sirius slid forward tentatively on the uneven wood, carefully angling himself so his legs dangled over the side, one on each side of Harry's hips. Harry held him closer, and tried not to think about how naked Sirius was, how smooth. His soft member lay nestled in a garden of curls, and rested to the left of his sac. Harry looked away and instead focused on a tree behind Sirius's shoulder. 

Sirius was standing. It was now time for Harry to decide on his next course of action. Sirius's face pressed close to Harry's skin; slow, lazy breath puffing against his cheek. 

"Um..." said Harry. "Are you alright to fly a broom now?" 

- - -

The Lupin Lodge was a little wooden house overgrown with heavy ivy. It sat in a valley of grasslands, with a lake at the bottom of the hill. 

Remus Lupin owned it, but had not lived there for many years. He had once told Harry about it in passing, but Harry had remembered. 

Harry had decided to stay there temporarily, at least until Sirius recovered from his second birth. Then Harry would take Sirius into the Muggle world, where they would get a hotel room, and then move on to a flat. It would take the Order about twenty-four hours to disbelieve Harry's note and believe Harry in mortal peril, then it would take Lupin another twenty-four hours to think of his abandoned property; so Harry had about two days to leave. He hoped he could leave by the next morning. 

Harry held an almost boneless Sirius against him on the front step. Sirius was squinting in the sun. "I have muscles," he murmured, "I just don't know how to use them yet. And everything is so bright, Harry. I can hardly see." But Sirius did not seem too worried; he smiled up at Harry wryly. 

Harry opened the wooden door and dragged them both inside. 

"Everything's in black and white," babbled Sirius, bemused. "That's not normal, is it? And my skin feels all sensitive - Harry, why am I here?" 

Harry sat Sirius carefully down on the old floral couch. He turned to light the fireplace. 

"Harry..." Sirius was murmuring. "Harry... ouch!" 

Harry spun back around and looked at Sirius with concern and fear. "Are you alright?" he demanded. 

"Your cloak is scratchy," Sirius grumbled. He propped a foot up on the tea table. The material fell away from his bent leg, gathering at the hip. Harry saw the word smudged against thigh in his own fingerprints: EMETH. 

So Harry had marked Sirius after all. The word was messily written, like a child's sloppy finger-painting. 

Harry inhaled sharply and held his breath. Sirius had bent his head back against the back of the couch and closed his eyes. His thigh quivered in the light from the window. 

Harry exhaled. "Would you like a drink or something?" 

Sirius did not move. "Perhaps I should try water. Just to see if it, you know, goes down." 

"Right," Harry nodded. He went into the little kitchen, where the light filtered through the dirty glass and sparkled on the metal sink. He braced against it with both hands and bent his head forward, breathing harshly, black hair ruffling with every exhale. 

Okay, he thought, get it together Harry. So Sirius Black is in the lounge room, lazing back next to the fire like a tired dog, all dazed and naked and young-looking. 

When Sirius finally gathered some energy, Harry knew, he would be asking questions, making demands, trying to understand. Harry had to be prepared. Sirius was like a new born baby: he had yet to focus on his limbs, needed to learn to control his movements. His eyes had yet to focus properly; his skin had yet to callous. Yet his mind was probably that of a thirty-something year old man; although his maturity had always been around the thirteen-year-old mark. When Sirius became more aware, he would try to be Harry's godfather again. Whether or not that would be hard to accept, Harry had yet to decide. Part of him really wanted his almost-father back, and another part saw an equal, a friend, a brother. It did not help that Sirius now _looked_ the same age as himself. 

Harry lifted himself up and started to search through the cupboards for a glass or cup. Lupin seemed to only own chipped tea cups with matching saucers, so he grabbed one of those and filled it up with water from the tap. 

Sirius had sat up again when Harry went into the room. He grinned lazily up at Harry. "Where'd you go? You were gone for ages!" 

Harry fidgeted, holding out the cup for Sirius to take. "I, um, went out to get you this." 

Sirius took it and sipped. "Mmmm," he mumbled, "tastes a bit like fluoride, but otherwise, it's not bad." 

"Aha," Harry laughed nervously. He could not get over how close Sirius was, _just there_. "So maybe I should get you some, um…" 

Sirius was staring up at him, grinning widely. "Your eyes are really green," he said appreciatively. 

"Er, they always have been, S-Sirius." 

"Yeah," the other agreed, leaning forward. "But now I'm seeing in colour. I couldn't before." 

"Would you like some clothes?" Harry blurted. He shuffled where he stood. "Um, do you want to go to bed - urk - I mean, to sleep, if you want to sleep. In bed…" 

Sirius was amused, but it was short lived. "I think we need to talk, Harry - " 

"I'll go get you some clothes - " 

"Just wait a sec, where are you going?" 

"To Lupin's bedroom - um, he has stuff - " 

"Why am I here, Harry?" 

Harry froze in the doorway to the corridor. Then he pivoted ninety degrees, and went out the back door without another word. 

The sunshine blasted at him malevolently as he stepped into the backyard. Harry's mind was full of countless thoughts and emotions, spinning around and around in his head like a hot clothes dryer switched on full ball. And when so much thought is being processed, the body always goes into Safe Mode, just doing the most straightforward and basic thing it could do. Harry walked and walked without stopping. He walked through the garden, strode around the side of the house, avoided the tomato patch and stumbled down the hill. 

When he got to the lake's edge, he finally came to a halt. He took a deep breath, and all his thoughts disappeared. His mind went blank, his body relaxed. 

He turned around and strolled back up the hill again. 

However, a mind cannot think of absolutely nothing, so it did the next best thing. 

It thought about food. 

- - -

For the next two hours Harry tended to the garden. It was full of vegetables and herbs, overgrown where the ivy had not gotten to it. There was lettuce, carrots, potatoes, chilli, peas, tomatoes, ginger, garlic, onion, strawberries, cucumber, capsicum, and just about every English favourite, including a lemon tree. 

The deciding point was that Harry refused to do magic unless in an emergency. He was on his own now, on the run from the law with his godfather, like he had always dreamed of doing ever since he was thirteen. Almost anyone could use a tracking charm on signature magic; at least, he knew Hermione could. It would not take too long for Dumbledore to get the Ministry's help in tracing Harry's wand - but Harry refused to part with it, even if he did not use it until he could ward and unplot a secure location for combat training. 

The point was, Harry could not use magic to conjure dinner, so he had to improvise. 

It was not hard to prepare a meal after first thinking about it. He would gather vegetables for a salad. Then he would go down to the fresh water lake and spear for fish - if Lupin could do it, he could. Lupin had said he had often come back to the house to eat the natural food when he was low on money. (This had saddened Harry at the time, but now he understood how useful a property like this could be.) With ginger, garlic, onion and lemon he could make a veritable marinade for fish. 

After dumping a bunch of freshly picked vegetables, he went over to the back of the garden to wrestle with the lemon tree. 

The back door slammed shut after Sirius came confidently through it. Harry watched from the edge of the orchard as he walked forward, wearing a pair of old beige slacks so big for him they hung on his hips low enough for Harry to see the curl of pubic hair. The faded black T-shirt was so old, it threatened to rip from the strain of his biceps, and the hem barely covered his navel. 

Sirius grinned at him as he came closer. Harry wiped the drool from his mouth. 

There was an object in his hand. He held it out for Harry to see. "Tell me, does this look alright to you?" 

Harry took it. It was a little oval mirror. His reflection stared up at him, bright-eyed, messy-haired and with soil smudges all over his face. He quickly wiped at the smudge on his nose, but that only seemed to make it worse. He blushed under Sirius's scrutiny. "It's just a normal mirror," stuttered Harry, handing the object back. 

"Are you sure?" asked Sirius, worried. "Because when I look into it the person staring back isn't me. At least, not the… me I remember." 

Harry bit his lip guiltily. "You mean, you look younger?" 

"Yeah," said Sirius. "I look like how I looked when I was about seventeen - before I left school and got my hair cut… because it got annoying when I rode my motorbike, and besides it was getting to the eighties then and it was the fashion... Um, Harry..?" 

"Look," said Harry quickly, "I'm sorry I ran off before. And I bet you have a million and one questions, and I promise we will talk about everything eventually, like over lunch?" He gave Sirius a pleading look, who returned it with an expression that said, Okay, you're forgiven, for now! 

"You bet I do," he said lightly. He gesticulated. "For example: why are we at Moony's icky hut? And why is it that I find I can't seem to change into Snuffles? And why do I look like I only just came out of puberty yesterday? And why are you picking vegetables? And why - ?" 

Harry laughed. "Okay okay I get it." Harry could not stop looking at him; he wanted to drink in every smile, every lilt of his voice, the sparkle in his grey eyes, the shadows at the curve of his hip. 

Sirius turned his face toward the sky, closing his eyes and smiling. Harry thought his saw the light intensify around Sirius for a moment, like a beam. He squinted into the sun and felt a stab of sudden fear. 

"Mmm," said Sirius, "the sun's so warm, it's good to be alive again." Then he frowned and looked at Harry. "Ever get the feeling someone is watching you?" 

The light only seemed to brighten upon Sirius as if in agreement. Harry's terror increased. He leapt forward and charged into Sirius, bowling them both over into the parsley patch. The light twinkled in aggravation before melting back into mildness. 

For a moment neither of them moved. Harry was lying on top of his godfather, and a second later he realised he had grabbed onto Sirius tight, fists clenched into the material of his clothes. 

He squeezed his eyes shut and took a shuddering breath. He felt Sirius's arms encircle his shoulders in shaky comfort. 

There was silence. 

Then Harry whispered, "Don't leave me. Don't ever leave me again. Please, Sirius, don't go." 

One of Sirius's hands drifted across his neck, before the fingers curled into his hair. Sirius's hip bones jutted uncomfortably into his own, and their chests heaved together tightly. Harry buried his face into the other man's neck. 

"Of course I won't leave you," Sirius assured softly, rubbing Harry's lower back in small soothing circles. "I didn't mean to last time, I swear Harry. I'll stay this time, I won't leave." 

Harry had a hold of one of Sirius's shoulders. He arched his back, dragging his forehead down over his godfather's chest, only to rest it on the taut stomach. 

"Okay," he said eventually. He looked up and gave Sirius a watery smile. "Let's go fishing." 

**TBC**


	3. CHOFESH

MushroomAnn: "Nonono, no fishing." shakes head

Dentedsky: "What's the problem with fishing?"

MushroomAnn: "Killing little innocent fish is just _wrong_."

Dentedsky: "But you killed Dudley!"

MushroomAnn: "Umm... That's totally different..." lifting 'Go Veg' banners

* * *

**CHOFESH**

1998 May 26

Apparently spearing fish was a werewolf talent.

Harry was exhausted from so many sleepless nights and Sirius was still readapting to his new and much shorter body. After about an hour of getting soaked to the bone and failing miserably in catching any fish, they decided to call it quits and go back to the lodge.

"It would have been so easy if I could change into Snuffles," Sirius commented as they climbed up the hill. "Or you could just use your wand. Or let me use it," he suggested.

Harry did not respond, just as he did not in the six previous times Sirius mentioned it.

"I know where we can get food!" Sirius declared. "Moony took me to the Muggle village once, not too far from here, and there was a big shop there that sold supplies to make food and stuff… How did he call it? A superstar… Or a superhero…"

"A _supermarket_?" Harry offered.

"Right, that's it! Do you have any Muggle money?"

"Yes." Harry had been secretly exchanging all the money he had in Gringotts together with the Blacks' fortune he inherited, to Muggle currency for the last two years. They were practically rich.

"Great, let's go then," Sirius tugged at his arm enthusiastically.

Harry supposed it would be safe if it was a Muggle place. But… He looked at Sirius. "Shouldn't you, um… change clothes?" he eyed the exposed navel.

Sirius looked down at himself, grabbed the beige slacks where it fell around his hips and pulled them up to his chest. "Better?" he grinned unabashedly.

Harry watched as the trousers fell back to exactly where they were as soon as Sirius let go, revealing his pubic hair. "Sure," he said, defeated.

They walked for nearly twenty minutes until they reached the store. Harry did not like how crowded it was. Especially the girls who shamelessly ogled Sirius. Or even worse - _the blokes_. Harry tightened his grip around the wand that was hidden up his sleeve, holding back the urge to hex them all, his blood boiling with possessiveness.

Sirius was completely oblivious to their stares. He walked excitedly down the aisles, touching everything and showing it to Harry. "…And look at this one, Harry - _soup_ in a paper box!" He shook it. "And it sounds like there's _powder_ inside, or something," he said in amazement.

Harry laughed. "How come you've never gone grocery shopping before?"

Sirius shrugged. "Always ate whatever the House-Elves served. Except for when I was a dog and ate rats or out of dustbins," he said as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

Harry cringed in disgust.

Two giggling girls were following them, but disappeared under the force of Harry's Death Glares. Sirius had not noticed and went on like a kid in Honeydukes, reading to Harry all the funny product's names and pointing at more mystery items.

They had been there for almost an hour until Harry's stomach started growling angrily. They took everything they needed, paid, and carried the bags back to the lodge.

Sirius chattered happily the whole way and Harry just smiled and listened. He let the voice wash over him, still not believing he was hearing it again, that his Sirius was really there, alive.

Harry prepared the meal while Sirius showered. He nearly dropped the salad bowl when Sirius returned, clad only in a pair of white boxers decorated in small red hearts, water dripped from his wet hair, drawing long glistening trails down his bare chest.

Sirius chuckled. "Would you have believed a werewolf wears such a thing?" He turned and walked to the small round table in the corner of the kitchen, the boxers clinging to his still moist skin and dipping to the crack in the middle.

Harry gulped and tore his eyes away.

By the time their lunch was ready it was almost time for dinner.

Harry ate numbly, too nervous from the upcoming conversation to feel any taste. He glanced up at Sirius through his bangs - he was shovelling food down his throat as if he had not eaten in years. Which was probably true, Harry reminded himself.

"Mmm… 's good," Sirius managed around his mouthful. Then he swallowed and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "So," he smiled at Harry, "are you going to tell me everything? Like why and how am I here?" he questioned.

"You're here because I brought you back. I thought you would be happy." A big knot formed in Harry's stomach. "Aren't you?"

"Of course I am," Sirius reassured and squeezed his shoulder briefly. "I just can't understand how you did it. I don't remember much of it, but I _know_ I was dead … and no one can resurrect the dead."

Harry shrugged. "Guess _I_ can."

"How?"

"I made a new potion and used some ancient Jewish magic. And I'm more powerful now, so that helped." At Sirius' questioning gaze he explained, "Dumbledore gave me some private lessons, you know, to train me against Voldemort."

"So you know about… the prophecy?" Sirius asked and Harry nodded. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you about it before. I wanted to, but everyone thought you were too young," he apologised.

Harry shook his head, "It's okay. Dumbledore told me everything right after… after what happened at the Ministry." Even though Sirius was sitting in front of him, very much alive, it was still hard for him to talk about his death.

Sirius seemed to sense it, leaned forward in his seat, and looked deep into his eyes. "I'm here now and I'm not going anywhere, I promise," he said softly and Harry turned his gaze to his plate, because if he would keep looking into those deep bright eyes he would not be able to stop the tears any longer.

Sirius reached out and cradled Harry's cheek in his hand. "Look at you, all grown up," he said. Harry stopped breathing. Sirius's palm was so soft and warm against his skin, and he leaned his face into the touch. "How long was I gone?" Sirius asked, his thumb caressing gently.

"Two," Harry choked. He tried to clear his throat. "T… two years." He gripped his chair so he would not melt to the floor.

Sirius dropped his hand. "Wow… So what happened? With the war?" he asked.

"Nothing really. Everybody knows Voldemort's back, but he's still hiding. There are attacks sometimes, but it's not a full blown out war. Not yet, anyway."

"So why are we hiding? Aren't you supposed to be at school?"

Harry pushed his hand through his hair nervously. That was one of the questions he feared most. "Nobody knew I was planning to bring you back. You see, some of what I did was not completely… legal… I didn't want them to stop me. And we can't let anyone find out, okay?" he pleaded.

Sirius's eyes narrowed slightly. "You haven't hurt anyone, have you?"

Harry picked at his vegetables. "No, of course not." He did not hurt anyone - the cyanide did it.

"Oh, good. You worried me there for a second," Sirius smiled. "So you brought me back from the after life, all by yourself? I always knew you would be a great wizard," he said proudly.

Harry blushed. "Actually, someone named Ann helped a bit."

"Ann?" Sirius frowned. "That name sounds familiar somehow…" he scrunched his nose, "Is she like, _really_ ugly?"

Harry burst out laughing, but then caught himself. "No!" he answered quickly and stared around wildly. He hoped the gods were not listening.

"Oh, I nearly forgot - why can't I change into Snuffles? I understand _you_ are not using magic 'cause you're afraid to be tracked down, but why can't I? No one would look for _me_," Sirius asked.

Harry picked up the chipped cup and hid his face, pretending to drink. He knew the answer to that would not go down easily. "There was some condition I didn't know about and only found out when it was already too late." He put the cup down, took a deep breath, and exhaled. "And you came back as a… eighteen year old Muggle," he finished in a rush.

"What?" Sirius hissed. Then yelled, "I'M A _MUGGLE_?"

Harry's heart jumped to his throat. "I'm sorry, I didn't know it would happen, I'm so so sorry," he cried and buried his face in his hands. He should have sacrificed a wizard instead of Dudley. He worked two years on this ritual and still managed to screw it up and disappoint his godfather.

"Is it permanent?" Sirius voice was strained.

Harry nodded mutely.

Sirius sighed. "Well, then there's nothing we can do about it," he said. "Harry, look at me." He prodded Harry's hands off his face. "I'm not mad at you, alright? You've done more than enough; this is _not_ your fault."

But Harry could see he was still upset.

They finished eating in silence and then Harry went to shower as Sirius insisted to wash up the dishes. Harry could hear smashing cutlery on his way out.

When he returned, dressed in his pyjamas, he found Sirius on the floral couch. He approached tentatively, not sure if everything was alright between the two of them.

Sirius grinned at him and waved to the fireplace. "Look, I lit a fire - the _Muggle_ way," he said smugly.

"That's great," Harry grinned back. He was so relieved Sirius was not angry with him. Sirius had his feet on the tea table, crossed at the ankles, and was patting the seat next to him for Harry to sit down. The orange flames reflected in the grey eyes and shadows danced on his bare skin.

Harry's mouth was watering. He gulped and sat near the young man that he found it harder and harder to call his Godfather.

Sirius put his arm around his shoulders. "Do you have any plans as to what we do next?"

Harry's heart warmed at the word 'we'. It was he and Sirius together, just as he always dreamed. "I dunno, I thought maybe we could hide in the Muggle world, find a nice flat, a home…" He looked up uncertainly, but relaxed when Sirius smiled and tightened his arm around him. "We should leave Britain. Everyone would look for me here. Is there anywhere you would like to go?"

"Someplace warm and sunny, with a nice beach. I need to tan," he lifted his other arm and looked at it critically. "Before I start looking like a Malfoy," he shuddered.

"I think you look perfect," Harry blurted and bit his lip in regret.

Sirius cocked his head and raised an eyebrow. "Perfect you say? Well, that's just because you missed me so much," he ruffled Harry's hair affectionately. "So where should we go then?" he returned to their previous topic. "Do you know any other languages? It would be easiest to speak the native tongue."

"Um… just a few words in Hebrew… But I don't want to go to Israel," he said.

"Hell no!" Sirius snorted. "We're trying to get _away_ from war zones. The only other places they speak English is the United States," they both looked at each other and wrinkled their noses in distaste. "Or Australia. I always wanted to go there; they have some funny animals… And _Billywigs_," he winked mischievously.

"Australia sounds good, and it's really as far as you can get," Harry agreed.

"Yeah, but how will we get there without Apparating?

"We'll fly."

Sirius shook his head. "I know you're an excellent Quidditch player, Harry, but riding a broom that far is impossible."

Harry laughed. "No, I meant flying on an _aeroplane_."

"Oh, those huge metal things Muggles invented, that go above the clouds?" Sirius asked in bewilderment.

"Er… yes. But if you're scared we can find some other w -"

"Are you mad?" Sirius cut in. "I've wanted to try those for ages! This is going to be so much fun!" he said eagerly.

Harry could not be happier; things were going so well, he was afraid he would wake up. He snuggled closer and rested his cheek on Sirius's shoulder.

---

He was sliding down a warm body, his mouth open against strong smooth chest, tasting and licking. The muscles tightening under his tongue as it glided slowly between rows of squares and dipped into a dark navel, thrusting in and out. Dark curls tickled at his chin teasingly. He moved downwards, inhaling the musky scent, hot flesh hardening in his squeezing palm, and he parted his lips, ready. Fingers tugged at his hair, encouraging, demanding, someone was moaning, _Harry_, a sweet voice moaning his name…

"_Harry_."

"Harry."

He opened his eyes and found himself staring at a round pink… nipple? He jumped away.

"We fell asleep on the couch," Sirius said drowsily and kept caressing Harry's hair gently. "Are you okay? I heard you moaning… Did you have a nightmare?" he asked worriedly.

Harry's heart was drumming madly against his rib cage. "No. I mean… Yes! Yes, a nightmare," he shifted quickly and tried to rearrange his clothes so the true nature of his dream would not show.

Sirius glanced at his lap. "Ohhh… I see," he smiled knowingly. "Don't worry about it; it's perfectly normal for your age. One day you'll have to tell all about your mystery lady, but right now we should get some real sleep." He stood up. "C'mon, let's go to bed."

Harry hoped the darkness would hide his blush. The only lights in the house were the few remaining burning logs and coals in the fireplace. He watched the salamanders scurrying between the dying flames as he tried to will his erection away and understand what the hell was wrong with him.

Sirius took two candles and a matchbox off the mantelpiece. "Watch this," he whispered in concentration and lit a match. Then he made a show of igniting the candles. "Ahah!" he exclaimed, "I can control fire with my hands." He flexed his fingers theatrically, grinned maniacally, took one candle, and carried it to Lupin's bedroom.

Sometimes it was easier to believe that man was _eight_ instead of _thirty_-eight, Harry mused. He took the other candle, and followed him.

"Meep," was the undignified sound that came out of Harry's mouth as he entered the room. Sirius was near the bad; his back to Harry, and bent in half while peeling off his boxers. His skin bathed in the red and yellow lights of the candles, one in front of him on the nightstand and the other, behind him, in Harry's shaking hand. All the calm Harry managed to gather just a minute before evaporated, his heartbeat raced, and the air became way too hot for such a late hour. He stared at the curved cheeks and embarrassedly remembered how yesterday, when Sirius was merely a clay figure, he took that piece of lead and pushed it right - in - there…

Sirius turned around and Harry started, nearly falling backwards. He immediately averted his gaze from the naked young man before him to a spot on the wall over his shoulders. "Pyjamas. I have more. You want?" he stuttered, trying to sound nonchalant, but not certain he succeeded.

"Pyjamas? What for?" Sirius smiled innocently and climbed under the covers. "Are you coming?"

"I'll just go brush my teeth," Harry said. And take a very cold shower, he added to himself.

By the time he returned Sirius was already snoring softly, sprawled diagonally on the bed, his right arm above his head and the left stretched sideways. His legs were spread, tangled in the white duvet. Harry leaned on the doorframe, and watched how his chest rose and fell with every breath. So alive, so beautiful.

"Would you look at those biceps; don't you just wanna _eat_ him?" a husky voice whispered behind him.

Harry span around, wand in hand.

"Oh please, don't you point that thing at _me_," Ann said irritably and pushed the wand away with one pink nailed finger.

"What do you want?"

"Him," the god said simply and glanced at Sirius.

Harry stood before him, blocking his way to the bed. "You can't! We had a deal, I gave you Dudley," he hissed through clenched teeth.

"Unfortunately, back then I wasn't informed you were some kind of a vital force in the fate of the world. Granting you a wish broke the Balance," Ann explained.

"This is about Voldemort?" Harry was trying not to scream. "It's not fair! It has nothing to do with him or that stupid war, it's about me and Sirius."

"I'm sorry pumpkin, but in a case like yours, I can't aid just one side, I'm neutral. If I help you, I must help Mr Riddle as well. Or undo our deal." Ann glanced at Sirius again, over Harry's head. "Don't worry, I'll take good care of Mr gorgeous here," he licked his lips.

"No! You can't have him, I won't let you!" Harry raised his wand again. "I don't care what you do, give Voldemort whatever he wants, just please don't take him away from me again," he begged. He was shaking and it felt like someone grabbed his heart and squeezed. He could not lose Sirius, not again, not ever. Even if it meant letting Voldemort have his wish.

The dog-faced god was disappointed. "Are you sure? Are you ready to give up the whole mortal world for the life of one man?"

Harry gulped. "Yes," he answered quietly. If Sirius ever found out, he would be so mad at him…

"As you wish," the god said.

The next moment Harry felt like he was drowning in sand and realised it was Ann, who walked right through him and over to the bed.

The god watched as Sirius slept. He laid one manicured hand lightly over his ridiculous golden bra and sighed sadly. "Goodbye my pretty one," he said, blew Sirius a kiss, and disappeared.

Harry covered his face with his hands. "Bugger."

1998 May 27

They used Muggle transportation to get to London, and rented a room for the day in a small hotel ten minutes away from the Heathrow airport. Harry showed Sirius how to work the telephone so he could order room service and how to change channels in the telly, and went to order their flight tickets, leaving Sirius gaping at the screen.

It was only when the woman asked for his desired destination that Harry remembered the forged papers he made for Sirius were invalid - Sirius was a lot younger now than the picture and the date of birth indicated. He decided to get back to the hotel and consult Sirius whether using his wand to transform the details would be safe enough and would not get them found.

When he returned, something caused him to halt in front of their room. There were voices. He took out his wand. _Familiar_ voices. He attached his ear to the door and listened. Sirius was talking to… Remus Lupin!

"…still can't believe you're back, I thought you were dead." Lupin's stunned voice.

"I was. I told you - Harry did it." Sirius.

"We must inform Dumbledore, he is worried about him," Lupin said and Harry began to panic. They were found, all their planes were ruined...

"No, Harry doesn't want to be found. He deserves his freedom, and I more than anyone knows how important a man's freedom is," Sirius insisted.

"But - "

"No Moony. And it's not why I called you here, this is about _us_. I missed you," Sirius lowered his voice, but Harry heard him anyway. There was a strange pang in his heart.

"I missed you too." Harry was getting nauseated.

"Then prove it," Sirius said hoarsely and the next moment there was a loud moan that sounded suspiciously like a wolf's howl. Harry nearly snapped his wand in rage.

"No, Sirius, stop," Lupin panted. "I can't, look at you, you are a_ child_."

"Am not! It's just the body, it's still me inside," Sirius argued.

"I'm sorry, I can't, it's wrong. I'm nearly forty and you're just a teenager - "

Sirius interrupted with a loud snort. "As if you hadn't shagged me when I was eighteen..." Harry's eyes bulged out so much they nearly fell off.

"It's completely irrelevant. What's more important now is that you two come back to Hogwarts. Harry still has NEWTs to do, and the Order - "

Sirius cut him off again. "NEWTs? The Order? I'm back from the _dead_ and all you care about is Harry NEWTs?"

"Education is important…" Remus said weakly. "And of course I'm glad you're back, it's just a little hard to comprehend." There was a gasp and a groan. "Sirius! I said _no_. You can't just grope me like that!" he yelled.

"You never complained before!" Sirius yelled back. "I thought you loved me…"

Okay, _that's it!_

Harry nearly kicked the door down on his way in.

"Harry, there you are, we were so worried!" Lupin got up and walked towards him with his arms open wide, but Harry dodged him and came to stand in front of Sirius, glaring.

He wanted to be angry, he really did. But Sirius was sitting hunched on the bad, his elbows on his knees and his face in his palms. Harry had never seen him like that, so… resigned. He turned to glare at Lupin instead.

"Harry," Lupin said softly, "don't you want to come back to Hogwarts? I'm sure Ron and Hermione miss you."

"We're staying here," Harry said firmly. "And _you_ are leaving." He walked to the door and held it open in indication.

Lupin sighed. "Alright. Goodbye Sirius," he petted his shoulder. "Harry," he nodded at him and left.

There was no doubt in Harry's mind that if he would not do something, they would soon be found. His mind was spinning trying to find solutions, but he kept coming to the same option - _he must kill Remus Lupin_. There was no other way…

He followed him out and closed the door, and checked that there were no other people in the hotel's hallway. He could see the point of Lupin's wand poking underneath his jacked. He knew he could not use his own wand, or they would be tracked.

"Remus!" he called. He ran up to him and Remus turned. "I missed you," Harry lied and hugged him, quickly stealing his wand.

"Thank you for bringing him back," was whispered in his hear and all of Harry's certainty vanished. That man suffered the last two years just as he did, he was his father's friend, the one who taught him how to fight Dementors… He was like an uncle - the good kind, not the Vernon kind. How could Harry kill him? He suddenly noticed Remus was still mumbling, "…thought I would only get to see him in my memories..."

Memories! Why had not he thought of that? He pushed out of the embrace. "_Stupefy!_" A bolt of red light shot out of the stolen wand and hit its rightful owner who fell to the floor, unconscious. "_Obliviate!_" he modified Remus's memory so he would not remember anything that happened to him since that morning. Then he remembered - the papers! He took them out of his pocket and changed Sirius's photo and birth year. At least _that_ problem was solved.

Harry cast _Mobilicorpus_, and Remus's body lifted off the ground as if held by unseen ropes. He covered him with the Invisibility Cloak he always carried in his school bag, and levitated him carefully to an alley a few streets away so there would not be any tracks leading to this hotel.

Harry left Remus there, and ran.

**TBC**


	4. AHAVA

MushroomAnn: Hey Rae, where's chapter 4? I want to read the ending!  
dentedsky: Ermmmm... Ummmm... -cough-  
MushroomAnn: Rae... RAE!  
dentedsky: Ahhhh! I mean, oh look, here it is!

Summary: Harry has a plan. He made a mistake and now he's going to fix it. No matter what (or who) the sacrifice is. Dudley's dead, Remus is confused, Voldemort is power hungry (so what's new?), Rae is drunk, Ann is impatient, Harry's desperate and Sirius looks very pretty naked. Slash! Magic! Tragedy! Butter! Snogging! COMPLETE!

**AHAVA**

Ann had a decision to make. It went a little something like this:

He could appear into the room with some wind, choir music, maybe even a blaze of lightning, and plenty of flashing magical colours. Or, he could just walk through the wall, say his piece and get the hell out of there.

The thing was, gods got bored. When you lived your life for several millennia, you tended to take the only chances you got to truly entertain yourself. However, Ann had to deal with one of the ugliest mortals he had ever laid eyes on, and frankly, he could not be bothered at this point.

Lord Voldemort was housed in the top tower of his dark and gloomy castle. It was a few hours after midnight; thunder rolled behind ash clouds, which frothed along the jet-black sky. The stones of the castle were carved into sharp spikes, and the multitude of gargoyles had made their nesting grounds amount them. It was dark and gloomy and pretty much looked like Ann's own world, only not underground.

But Ann was no fool. He knew that Riddle was like all the other previous ruling Pharaohs - egotistical, stubborn and surrounded completely by snakes (as snakes were used for protection; and the majority of the time, Pharaohs needed just that.) This particular Pharaoh would need to be flattered and amazed if Ann was going to get anywhere with him productively.

Ann hovered outside the window and took a deep breath. He summoned some black, wishy-washy glamour magic to circulate around him. The point here was to impress the mortal into thinking Ann was really incredible and fabulous.

He floated through the wall, and added a clap thunder in the distance, just for fun.

The terrible creature in front of him was staring into the fire when Ann arrived. He did not move as he summoned some special wind of his own, whipping his black robes around him ominously. Oooh, thought Ann, we're going to play this game, are we? Ann lifted a hand with a flourish, and clicked his fingers. Light flickered from his hand, rippling across the room in a ring and the tinkle of a bell could be heard. He did this for no reason, but because it looked and sounded pretty.

Tom Riddle did not move from his position, but his blood-red eyes narrowed. "Did I summon you, spirit?" he hissed.

Ann was momentarily thrown. Honestly, what nerve!

He pouted and clicked his fingers again. The music, lights, wind, swirling magic and thunder all disappeared. He stepped forward, struck a bored pose and pulled out a nail file. As he tended to his fingernails, he drawled, "Don't worry Mr Riddle, I won't be long. My name is Anubis of the Underworld, but my friends call me Ann. So you can call Lord Anubis. I'm merely here on an errand. I must grant you one wish. Do with it what you will."

Voldemort paused, then slowly turned to his visitor, scrutinising him with sharp, snake-like eyes. This Tom Riddle was obviously a power-freak; Ann was sure the Dark Lord was trying to psych him out. Ann's opinion of him only worsened.

Ann suppressed the urge to sigh. Oh my pretty green-eyed wonder, he wailed inside, what have you done?

Voldemort turned away and strode towards the liquor cabinet. "Would you like something to drink?" he offered.

Ann clicked his tongue in impatience. "No thank you."

"Suit yourself." The Dark Lord slowly poured himself some brandy. Ann paused and looked out the window. Dawn would arrive in less than an hour - which meant that at the rate Ann was going, Rae would have him by the throat before Voldemort was even half-way through the small talk.

Voldemort poured himself a drink and sipped it. He gave Ann a sly look. "Tell me," he said, sounding breathless and mysterious, "if you are the god of the Underworld, does that imply that there is no Heaven, and no Hell?"

Ann sniffed. "What has Heaven and Hell got to do with anything?"

"If there is an Underworld, the existence of Hell would be contradictory. Am I to assume there is only one place the souls of the dead reside?"

Ann resumed filing his nails, and decided to suffer the boring yadda-yadda for a little while longer. "Where ever there is a god, there is religion. Where ever there is religion, there are rules. I may be the god of the Underworld, but I did not make up the rules; my followers did."

"Oh?" said the Dark Lord quietly. He paced the width of the room lazily. "So should your followers decide to change the rules, your occupation may shift?"

"It would shift, yes, if that were the case."

"What makes a god?" Voldemort demanded. He stood in the middle of the room, facing his visitor, eyes blazing, his drink abandoned. His robes rustled with the swirl of oncoming magic. "How does a god die?"

A thought had crossed Ann's mind at this point: whether it was prudent to answer the Dark Lord's questions. But in truth, gods were not particularly stingy on giving out information; all a mortal had to do was ask, really.

"No one is sure how a god is made," replied Ann. "The popular thought is that the gods created the people. However, it is also true that the people created the gods. And in this, a god dies when the people no longer believes in him."

"I SHALL BECOME A GOD!" Voldemort suddenly boomed. Ann blinked. "I SHALL BECOME IMMORTAL AND THE WORLD WILL BE MINE!"

"Well aren't we greedy today," murmured Ann.

"I COMMAND YOU, GOD OF THE UNDERWORLD, TO GRANT ME MY WISH!"

Ann put his hands on his hips and struck yet another pose. "Out with it sweetie, I haven't got all night."

Lord Voldemort's tone lowered to dangerous levels. "I wish... that Harry Potter would die!"

There was a pause in which Ann stared at Voldemort, and Voldemort waited for something to happen.

Ann hummed and twisted his lips guiltily. "...No can do, sorry darling."

Lord Voldemort looked really pissed off. "But you are a god of the Underworld, are you not?"

"Yes," Ann nodded, "and I can take a soul with the click of my fingers. But sweetie, hello! The only being able to kill Harry Potter, is you."

This seemed to actually make the Dark Lord relax. Obviously, he liked to be flattered. "All right then. I wish for Harry Potter's magical powers to be removed!"

"Oh," sighed Ann reluctantly. "That - yes, alright, whatever you want." _Oh Harry, you stupid (yet fantastically beautiful) child!_

The Dark Lord's smirk seemed to hold the most sinister secrets of the world in one easy twist of his thin lips. "Good," he breathed.

"I'll need a cat and a plate of warm butter," said Ann abruptly.

"Very well," said Voldemort. He strode over to the fire and threw in some green powder. "Severus," he shouted into the flames, "bring me a cat and a plate of butter!"

"Warm butter," said Ann.

"Warm butter. And get Lucius to help you."

There was a pause and then: "Yes, Master."

Voldemort nodded contentedly and braced himself on the mantle with one hand.

Ann ran a critical eye over the décor of the room.

Voldemort drummed his fingers and shifted his feet.

"So..." he said.

"So..." echoed Ann awkwardly.

"How's Immortality doing for you, anyway?"

Ann pursed his canine lips in indecision. "Oh you know... some old same old. You meet some interesting people..."

"Do you? Oh well, that sounds like rewarding work..."

"Well, of course you have your slow days."

"I see."

"Yes."

"Quite."

There was a knock on the door and two men entered.

Ann immediately stood up straighter and took notice. He smiled indulgently - the two men were gorgeous! They were both trimly built and had long, flowing hair. If only they were a little younger - perhaps Harry and Sirius's age - then they would be absolutely divine. Yum yum, I'll have two of those, thank you doctor!

"Severus, Lucius," Voldemort greeted. "Let me introduce you - "

"They can't see me," said Ann quickly.

" - to the coffee table. Where you will put the cat and butter. Thank you, you may leave."

The two men exchanged glances.

_Remind me again,_ said the brunette silently, _why we serve this madman?_

_Um,_ said the blonde, _better get back to me on that one._

They did as they were told and uncomfortably left the room.

Ann went over to the coffee table and picked up the disorientated tabby cat. Ann looked into its amber eyes and the cat relaxed immediately, going into a kind of trance.

"What is the feline for?" asked Voldemort

"Cats hold magical powers, actually," said Ann haughtily. "They're a very potent ingredient in treasure seeking, keeping and removal magic."

"I'll have to remember that."

"Yes," said Ann, and cleared his throat. He started to recite the old magic of the gods: "_Harry Potter, one two three _

"Place thine curse'th unto thee

"When each lick meet ninety-nine

"Shall thy magic un-entwine."

Ann paused, embarrassed, before setting the cat back onto the table. Then he stuck his fingers into the warm butter and preceded to swath the cat with it. Ann put butter in little patches all over - tummy, back, tail, neck, chin, legs. In actuality, he really only needed to put butter on the cat's four paws, but Ann wanted to buy Harry some time, without getting himself into trouble with Rae.

Finally, Ann pulled back and clicked his fingers (with some difficulty, because they were covered in butter and shed cat fur) and the cat snapped out of its trance. It immediately started to lick itself rapidly, as if its life depended on it.

"There," said Ann tiredly, wiping his hands on his skirt. "Well, it's been fun… chao!"

"Wait," commanded Voldemort. "Has my wish been granted?"

Ann was making his way back toward the wall he had entered earlier. "The spell will climax when the cat finishes licking itself. May be a few hours yet."

The second last time Ann saw of Voldemort, he was slowly sitting himself down on the couch, his eyes fixated on the cat.

After passing through the wall, Ann walked up invisible steps into the coming sun.

Back when Rae had been just a toddler, he had ridden the sky in a little canoe.

Nowadays, however, his boat had been renovated and extended into a large ship with many glass rooms. At every door stood golden statues of monkeys, which were the god's most loyal followers. Ann walked down a long, golden corridor and entered one of the sun rooms, where Rae was lazing back on a couch, his high-healed feet using the god Set as a footrest.

Set had been punished long ago for chopping Osiris into tiny little pieces and consequently sending him to the Underworld. Set had been turned into a dog, and was made a servant of Rae's in his ship. Set only seemed to get some perverse pleasure out of this, and anyway, Rae still allowed him to make a few storms every now and again.

Rae looked up. "You finally came," he said softly, "I was getting worried."

Ann nodded wearily. "It is done."

Rae lifted his feet and frowned at Set. "Leave us be."

Set got up lazily and mumbled, "As you wish, Lord Ra."

Rae stood up after Set had left. He was wearing Ann's favourite dress: long and white, and trimmed with gold. He walked forward and opened his arms for Ann. "Tell me all about it, my friend."

Ann stiffly allowed Rae to hold him. They had been friends for thousands of years, yet Ann still felt hesitant around Rae when he was in one of his cuddling moods.

"I went to the Pretty One," Ann began and stopped. "Hmmm, yes," he murmured as Rae scratched him behind his doggy ears, "that's nice, right there..."

"That's a good boy... just relax..."

Ann cleared his throat. "But the Green Eyed One would not let him go. So I went to the Pharaoh and granted his wish. It was terrible."

"What did he wish for?"

"For Harry's magic to be removed."

"Removed where?"

Ann snapped his eyes open and pulled back to look at Rae. Rae lifted his feathered eyebrows expectantly.

"What do you mean?" asked Ann, confused.

Rae petted Ann's long nose. "Well, where did Harry's magic go? It's not like it can just disappear into thin air, you know. I mean, I suppose it could float into thin air and sulk for a bit, but it has to go somewhere."

"Can't it just disperse back into the earth?"

"And what, be absorbed by pretty flowers? I don't think so."

"Well neither I nor the Pharaoh specified where it would go."

"Oh well, his loss I suppose," Rae murmured, leaning his head on Ann's shoulder. "You know what, Ann? If I had lips I would kiss you right now."

There was a pause and then: "You've been drinking, haven't you."

"Yeah. Don't hold it against me, though. Ann?"

"Yes, Rae?"

"The Balance has been met now," he mused sadly, "there's nothing left for us to do but watch."

Ann finally wound his arms around the other god. "Thank all that is pink and holy for that!"

1998 May 27

Harry mentally crushed his rapidly beating heart into submission. He came back into the hotel room, where Sirius sat, still curled around himself on the bed.

They both tried to smile at each other, but failed.

"I just can't believe it!" Sirius burst out. "What kind of bloke rejects another because they look too young?"

While it held many flaws, Harry thought that Sirius had never uttered a truer statement.

"Well," Harry began hesitantly, "I'm eighteen too."

Sirius's eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. "And you slept with Remus!" he demanded, standing up.

"No!" Harry was first scandalised, then rather disgusted. He made a face. "No, uh, I mean... you're eighteen and I'm eighteen..."

"But you didn't sleep with him."

"Merlin, no!"

"Oh good," Sirius sighed in relief, "you got me worried there." He sat back down and ran a hand through his hair. "And anyway, I'm actually thirty-eight. At least, I think I am. Ohhh, I'm so confused. Listen, Harry?" He looked up at Harry pleadingly, almost puppy-dog-like. Harry's heart softened. "Do you mind terribly if you left me alone for awhile?"

Harry looked down and swallowed thickly. Sirius was getting into one of his depressive moods again. Harry remembered him always moping in Grimmauld Place and hoped that he would not get like that again. He thought about defying Sirius and staying.

But then he reasoned that now might not be the best time to be a hypocrite and he nodded to Sirius reluctantly. "Okay. I might go have a shower anyway."

Sirius grinned at him, suddenly. "Thanks a pot-full, Harry."

Harry smiled back at him and went into the small en suite bathroom. He undressed and got under the shower.

Alright, Harry, he thought to himself as the water beat a heavy rhythm against his skin; get it together. You killed and you wanted to again but that's okay, you had good reason. We're almost free, almost there and no one is going to take Sirius away from me.

Something thick and evil took a hold of Harry's chest suddenly, and he gasped at the pain, clutching his throat. It felt like jealousy, and despair.

The hot water slowly soothed it away and Harry sighed. Just when he thought it was some kind of fluke, the stab returned.

"Oh God - ow!" he gasped. His stomach turned and his chest tightened with the bruising pain of it. Harry breathed in sharply and then choked on water.

It clawed deeper. Harry groaned and bent double. "Sirius..." he moaned, but somewhere in his rapidly fogging mind he knew Sirius would not be able to hear him through the rushing of water against the tiles.

It felt as if his heart suddenly did not want to be in his chest anymore and was pushing hard against the cage of his ribs. But then there was something emotional there as well - sadness was over taking every other emotion, his soul was being pulled from his body and it scrambled to stay. He cried out and stumbled from the shower, having the dim thought to grab a towel and wrap it around his waist... he was clutching it around him with one hand and the other was reaching for the door and he was almost there...

"Sirius!" he cried as he opened the door and Merlin, it must have been some terrible Dark curse because it was feeling close to something like _Cruciatus_ at this point. Sirius immediately muted the television from it was blearing some Peter Andre song. He stood up and ran over to Harry, grabbing his head and forcing Harry to look into his eyes.

"What is it Harry?" he demanded frantically. "What's wrong?"

"Hurts," he cried into Sirius's neck. "My chest..."

Sirius pushed him back, hands on his shoulders, and they both stared at Harry's bare chest as something green, bright and magical swirled in the centre.

"You've been hexed," Sirius said vehemently. He forced Harry's head up again and grey eyes burned into green. "Stay with me Harry, remember yourself!"

Harry's soul gave one last sad sigh before Harry felt a cold blast of overwhelming despair. He sobbed loudly as a green ball of sparkling energy was ripped from his chest.

For one silent, suspended moment, the two almost-men watched the Quaffle-sized ball of magic hover uncertainly between them. Then, it made a decision and sped straight at Sirius, slamming into his chest and rocketing him off his feet and across the room, crashing him against the far wall.

"Sirius!" Harry cried, as some of the cheap white paint cracked and crumbled around Sirius's sitting, dazed form. Harry, still on the verge of tears and pain thumping through his veins, came forward and kneeled in front of him. "Oh Sirius... I'm so sorry, are you okay? Please, speak to me!"

Sirius blinked himself slowly out of his daze. He lifted one of his hands and watched in fascination as magic sizzled like green lightning around his fingers. Then he abruptly grinned up at Harry.

"Are you kidding? I feel GREAT!"

The pain in Harry's body was subsiding and what was left was a strong feeling of emptiness.

Sirius jumped up and with a flicker like a candle flame in the wind, he transformed into a large black dog, and barked happily, pouncing around the room. Harry dragged himself across the carpet and leaned his head on the edge of the bed, closing his eyes. "That's great, Sirius," he murmured, black clawing at the edge of his awareness, "I'm so glad you're happy..."

Sirius was in his human form and at Harry's side in a second. He grabbed Harry's head in his hands again and leaned his face close and really, Harry could get used to Sirius touching him like this. "Harry," said Sirius insistently, "stay with me, okay?"

Harry was only able to open his eyes enough to see Sirius's beautiful yet worried frown, before mumbling, "Sleep..." and doing just that.

Outside the midday sun beat its rays upon London in hot disappointment.

- - -

They were about to board an airplane to the most isolated city in the world: Perth.

It was supposed to be a city surrounded by hot desert on one side, and a stretch of ocean on the other. It sounded absolutely perfect to Harry.

He watched in amusement as Sirius attempted to persuade the flight attendant to put his boarding pass through the 'parchment-sucking box' again.

Harry was still feeling weary and sad from his strange ordeal this morning. He felt he was getting quite good at deflecting Sirius's persistent questioning. Harry took comfort in Sirius's enthusiasm at flying Muggle-style and pushed away the urge to hug Sirius from behind and rest his head on his shoulder.

"Can I put Harry's through myself, then?" he demanded of the harassed flight attendant.

"No," she said rudely, holding her hand out for Harry's boarding pass. He gave it to her, ignoring Sirius's sulky pout as she quickly examined the boarding pass, and then pushed it through the slot at the top. "Please go through, sirs."

"Oooo," said Sirius as they stepped into walkway, "a dark tunnel."

The roar of the plane engine was getting louder and louder as they walked to the plane doors. They passed a tall box full of plastic packaged earphones. "Here Sirius," said Harry, "grab one of these."

"PARDON HARRY?"

"I SAID 'GRAB ONE OF THESE!'"

"WHAT DO WE NEED EAR MUFFS FOR? AREN'T THEY A LITTLE SMALL?"

Harry quickly grabbed two and pushed Sirius forward, because they were holding up the line of passengers. They turned the corner and were immediately blasted with more engine droning and warm, thick engine air.

They came across yet another flight attendant (they all seemed to be women for some reason) whose face was fixed with a strained, fake grin. They stopped at her and she said something.

"PARDON?" shouted Harry and Sirius together.

"TICKETS PLEASE!" she shrieked.

"BUT WE ALREADY - " began Sirius.

"HERE!" said Harry, shoving the ticket booklets into her small hands. She flipped them both open and said something else.

Both Harry and Sirius opened their mouths to shout in her face again but she quickly screamed, "YOU ARE SITTING TOGETHER, WINDOW SEAT, ROW SEVEN!"

"YEAH WE KNOW," said Sirius, annoyed at the hold-up, "WE CAN READ!"

She gave the ticket booklets back and said "HAVE A NICE FLIGHT!" in a way that suggested she had already said that same line fifty million times that day.

Harry and Sirius shuffled around yet another tight corner and they were confronted with a theatre of large, comfy chairs all facing the front. Thank Merlin for First Class, thought Harry happily. For some reason, with just a few steps the horrible roar of the plane was only a dull hum here, easily ignored. The came to their row seven seats and Sirius hovered behind him as Harry flipped open the overhead compartment and shoved his backpack inside.

"So Harry," Sirius started, looking at Harry demurely through lowered eyelashes, "may I sit at the window?"

"Huh? Yeah of course, I was going to let you anyway."

"Boss," Sirius nodded appreciatively, as he shuffled across Harry's seat and sat at the small oval window. He looked down at the armrests, before staring outside. "Are we there yet?"

Harry laughed as he got himself comfortable in the aisle seat. "I don't think so; we've yet to take off. I think I read somewhere that it will take about twenty-eight hours to get there."

Sirius abruptly turned in his seat to stare at Harry in dismay. "Twenty-eight hours!"

Meanwhile, other passengers were ambling up the aisles, folding their bags away and getting ready for the take-off. Harry shrugged. "Something like that, yeah. Australia's really far away." He leaned forward and pulled out a thin flight magazine, flipping to a back page. "Here's a map of the world," Harry said, sitting the magazine between them so Sirius could see. "We're here," he said, pointing to a tiny squiggle that was supposed to be England, "and we're going here." He pointed to the south-west corner of a paw-shaped island, down at the bottom right of the map.

Sirius looked unimpressed, sneering slightly. "Our ancestors shouldn't have called it Australia; they should have just named it Far, because it's so bloody far away!"

"Yeah," sighed Harry, "but we want to be far away."

Sirius suddenly grabbed Harry's hand. Harry felt the breath get knocked out of him at that simple, inviting touch - his eyelashes fluttered with urge to close his eyes at the feeling. "You're right Harry," Sirius was saying, "we want to be very far away."

The majority of the passengers had seated themselves, and the shrill flight attendant from before came through and closed the curtain behind her. All the little televisions attached to each seat switched on and sound came out of the little speakers above their heads.

"Thank you for flying with British Airlines," said a deep, male voice. "Please watch the following safety presentation on the nearest television screen, and follow the signals of the flight attendant."

Sirius gawked. "We have our own TVs! Look Harry, they're so miniature and cute!"

Harry and Sirius, still kind-of-but-not holding hands, giggled together as they watched the video demonstrate how to put your head between your knees. ("As if I don't know how to kiss my own bum," said Sirius, "I do it all the time! I mean, who wouldn't want to kiss this beautiful hunk of flesh?") Sirius thought it extremely hilarious when the flight attendant pointed with straight arms at the emergency exits. ("I reckon I could do that as a living," Sirius continued with his running commentary, "how easy would it be? There's an exit over here and an exit over there, have fun and don't wet yourself!")

"Can we go now?" Sirius whined loudly when the video had finished. His comment caused a few older people to glare, and a couple of teenagers to giggle.

They obediently put their seatbelts on when the seatbelt light flashed, and then the plane was moving.

Harry's blood rushed rapidly through his system as the plane rolled around a corner, then drastically sped up. His throat seemed to drop to the bottom of his stomach as the plane pitched up and flew into the sky. Sirius gasped next to him, watching the land get smaller and smaller below them.

"Whoa that was real boss, Harry," Sirius grinned. "Let's do it again!"

The plane was steadily drifting through grey clouds, and soon the novelty was over for most of the passengers. The seatbelt sign had turned off, and air hostesses were walking bristly up and down the aisles, offering drinks and giving people peanuts.

Sirius turned his television on, where an old episode of _Everybody Loves Raymond_ was playing. "There's no sound," he complained to Harry.

"You have to use these," said Harry, ripping open the plastic bag of the earphones. He gave a set to Sirius, and tried not to press too closely to him when he put the headset over his head. Harry plugged the end into the armrest. "How's that?"

Sirius made a displeased face. "It's playing classical music."

"Just flick through the channels, here, and I think this is the volume."

"What's that? Oh yeah - I see."

They next few hours had Sirius and Harry watching television and eating hot, rubbery food out of a silver tray. After playing a couple of TV shows they played a series of movies - Harry and Sirius sat close together to watch _Titanic_. Harry yawned sleepily and decided he needed to walk around.

He made to get up, but a hand on his arm stopped him. Sirius looked at Harry seriously as he pulled his earphones off, and Harry felt the anticipated dread.

"Harry," said Sirius softly, "I think we need to talk."

"Oh ah..." mumbled Harry. "I need to go to the toilet." He got up and waddled down the aisle. He heard a noise and looked over in surprise to see Sirius studiously following him.

Harry swallowed and walked casually into a toilet, and waited for Sirius to follow and slide the compact door behind them. It was small and cramped and the engine was very loud, and Harry felt very claustrophobic.

They manoeuvred so they were standing face to face, chins raised so they didn't have to look at each other straight in the eye at such close proximity.

"So," Sirius began gently, "do you want to tell me anything, Harry?"

Harry paused. It sounded like such a Dumbledore question, and rather out-of-character for Sirius. "Not really," he answered truthfully.

Sirius deflated and leaned on one leg, finally looking Harry in the face. Harry looked away from his piercing gaze. "Help me out here, Harry," said Sirius, "I'm trying to be a good godfather, even though I know I'm not doing a very good job."

"You're doing fine, Sirius," said Harry softly.

"Well okay, um. Then what happened today?"

Harry took a deep breath. "It's - I think I lost my magic today."

"YOU WHAT?" Sirius exploded, making Harry wince. "Okay, er, sorry. Keep going."

"It was another one of the conditions, in order to keep you."

"Oh, Harry... Look at me." Harry reluctantly turned his face to Sirius and instantly wished he hadn't. They were standing so close together, their noses almost touching, and Sirius's lips were so close Harry could feel his breath caress his face with every exhale. "I can tell you're upset about something, and I want to help. It's what I'm here for, right? Just talk to me. What happened?"

With horror Harry realised his eyes were smarting and his bottom lip was trembling. He had done so much in the past few days - Dudley, Remus, Ann - and it was weighing down heavily on his conscience. Sirius was offering consultation, a way to sooth away the pain. But so far Harry had done too much to keep Sirius and confessing the bad things he had done might push him away.

"They were going to take you away from me," Harry burst out in an almost-whimper. "Ann told me I had to sacrifice more to keep you and I didn't know what to do!"

Sirius suddenly seized Harry around the shoulders and hugged him tight, pressing his lips to Harry's hair at his temple. "Shh Harry, it's okay."

Harry clawed at the material of Sirius's tee. He sniffled and at that moment he felt like a little boy who had scrapped his knee and was being comforted by an older brother. "I don't mind..." Harry mumbled.

Sirius pulled away and looked hard into his face. "How can you not mind! Your magic is gone and - and it's my fault."

Harry shook his head, realising something. "It's okay though, don't you see? My magic isn't gone, it just went somewhere else. It went to you."

His godfather lifted up a hand and looked at it. "Oh yeah - so that's what that was."

"Yes," Harry smiled, getting confident. He daringly touched a finger to Sirius's jaw. "I don't mind, because I know where my magic is now, and I know it's safe with you. And we're going to live like Muggles now anyway, aren't we?" He shrugged wryly. "What do I need my magic for?"

Sirius looked unconvinced for a second, before grinning back at Harry. Harry realised, smile melting away, that they were holding each other in a small compartment; Harry's hand on Sirius's jaw and their bodies pressed together, with Sirius's arms around him and their lips quivering in the air like butterflies...

They both pulled back abruptly at the exact same time, Sirius slamming into the door and Harry almost tripping backward onto the toilet.

Sirius laughed nervously, unable to look Harry in the face. "How about I leave first and you a few minutes later, so it doesn't look like we... ermm..."

"Yeah," said Harry quickly, "sure, okay, fine, whatever."

"Okay, great, er - yes, fine." Sirius hesitated, seeming to want to say something more, before he gave up on the idea and pulled the door across and back, leaving Harry alone to slam his head against it.

1998 May something (date unknown due to jetlag)

When Harry got off the plane, he was expecting warm, Aussie midnight weather.

What he got was a blast of freezing cold wind.

"Ahhh!" cried Sirius, as he gripped onto his hair with both hands, as if the wind threatened to blow his beautiful long locks right off his head.

The majority of the plane's passengers had been British men obviously on very important business trips. Some were Australians weary from round-the-world travel, with a few khaki-wearing Canadian back-backers scattered among them. They all separated, catching taxis and getting on hotel buses. Harry and Sirius stood around the airport, and wondered what to do next.

"I probably should've planned ahead," apologised Harry.

"Well we did decide to come here on a whim," soothed Sirius. "We'll just have to find someplace."

They did. Through the information desk they book a roomed at an expensive yet cosy-looking (as seen on the brochure) beach resort and got on a bus. Outside the bus windows the night was pitch-black and shining with stars. They were so bright in a way Harry had never seen before.

Sirius leaned his head on Harry's shoulder, the same way he had earlier on the plane when they'd decided to sleep. Sirius hesitated, then threaded his fingers through Harry's and held his hand.

"We're free now, Harry," he said softly.

Harry smiled and closed his eyes, snuggling a bit.

It was a few hours before they got to the town of Fremantle, but the sun was yet to rise. They got off the bus and wandered up the large driveway to the beach house resort. They got to the reception and Sirius buzzed the door tiredly.

An old man huddled out from the back and unlocked the door for them. "Good morning," he yawned amiably.

Harry leaned on the counter while the man sat down on the other side. "We'd like a room with two single beds, if that's alright."

He looked up and beamed at them. "Well well, if it isn't a couple o' lads from the homeland. What are ye little runaways doing here, then?"

Harry and Sirius exchanged amused glances. "Wondering why it's so cold here, actually," answered Sirius.

The English man frowned. "Well it is May - it's coming on winter here, you know."

"Oh yeah," said Sirius, "I forgot about the other-way-around bit."

"And also," added Harry, puzzled, "what's that weird rushing noise?"

The man and Sirius both looked at Harry. "It's the ocean, lad," said the man sadly.

Harry looked at Sirius. "It's oh - oh right. I've never been to the beach before."

Sirius put a sympathetic hand on the small of his back.

The receptionist was clicking away at his computer. "Now, we've only double beds here, I'm afraid, but we can drag in a futon if you'd like that instead."

Harry blushed and started to fidget. He wouldn't mind sleeping with Sirius at all, really...

"Let's talk about it in the morning," said Sirius. He directed his next statement to the receptionist, thought he looked at Harry. "I want to show my friend what a beach looks like."

Harry smiled gratefully at him, and felt the thrum of excitement at the thought of seeing something wonderful and new.

The old man looked grateful and yawned as he handed Harry the key to room six. Harry put it in his backpack and followed Sirius out the door.

- - -

The sand filtered through his bare toes and fingers in rushes. Some stuck to his skin and hair and shone from the light of the moon like party glitter. Ahead the sea roared like a ferocious animal, beating itself over and over against the shore and cliffs in ceaseless agony; beckoning, powerful. Harry opened his mouth wide and breathed in the salty air, the scent so strong it was like food for his heaving lungs.

Sirius was sitting on the sand next to him, his lips pulled back in a grin so wide his teeth shone like beacons.

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

Harry could not speak. He sighed in response.

"When I was a boy my family owned a beach house in Scotland - stupid I know - but they had heating wards on the whole property, which included the ocean. Apparently the Blacks originated from Scotland, before they mixed with some Italian family. Anyway, whenever I went to the beach house my cousin Bella - stupid bitch - regaled me with horror stories of the Kelpies coming out of the sea at night and eating little boys. Later I found out it was true, ha!"

Harry tipped his head forward and ran his hand around in the sand, making arched patterns. "I know Bellatrix; she killed you."

Sirius breathed in loudly through his nose. "Yeah I know. Hence the 'stupid bitch' comment." He shifted where he sat. "Well, I can't say I didn't have fun fighting her though, she's such a little minx - what the hell am I sitting on?" Sirius lifted himself a little and picked something off the sand. "Ewwwwww!"

"What is it?" asked Harry, leaning over and squinting in the darkness. Sirius was holding it away from them both with great exaggeration.

"It's a squishy, icky, thingy! Here, you take it."

Harry took it into his hands and regretted it as soon as he felt the slime. It was sticky, round and transparent-white, with - Harry shuddered - four round knobs on the underside.

Sirius was feeling his way around the sand. "Wow, look! Here's another one!"

"What is it?" Harry murmured.

Sirius picked yet another one up and squinted at it. "It looks - it looks like a jellyfish!"

"Jellyfish?"

They were scrabbling to stand up now, stumbling around each other, looking for more of those squishy disks.

"Jellyfish," Sirius concluded with a laugh. "But usually they have tentacles that sting; these are just poor deformed and defenceless little buggers."

Sirius abruptly ripped his shirt off and picked two jellyfish, and stuck them over his breasts. He grinned and jigged them. "How do I look," he purred, "Mr Prime Minister?"

Harry burst out laughing in large gasps, ashamedly aroused. He immediately stopped laughing when Sirius threw the jellyfish on the ground, and started to undo the buttons on his trousers.

"What - ?"

"Ready for a skinny dip?" asked Sirius smugly.

"I - it's freezing out here!"

Sirius ignored this and stepped out his trousers, before pushing down his underwear. Harry clumsily spun around one hundred and eighty degrees.

"Bet you can't catch me, Harry!" And then he was off, running down the slope of sand to the waves. Harry heard him splash into the water.

"Bugger," he cursed, and pulled off his own jumper and shirt before following.

The water was surprisingly warmer than the air. It circled around his ancles as he treaded into the foam, wondering belatedly if any little sea creatures would swim up and bite him. Sirius was metres away, waving his arms around and calling to Harry to come in further. He walked forward carefully but not slowly, and marveled at how powerful the water was - it pushed and pulled at his trousers and summoned him into deeper water.

Sirius grabbed his arm as soon as Harry caught up to him. "Look! All those jelly blobs - there're millions of them!"

Harry looked down into the now waist-high water. The jellyfish were actually _glowing_ as if they had caught the light from the sun in the day and displayed it at night. They lazily undulated around the two teenagers and suddenly the jellyfish were no longer disgusting, but beautiful.

Sirius persuaded Harry to swim further into the water. Together they doggy paddled over the mild waves until they could no longer touch the sea bed with their feet. Harry was a little scared, but in true Gryffindor fashion his curiosity and excitement spurred him on.

Harry did not know how long they had been out there, but he was happy, even when his glasses got speckled with water and sand. They laughed and joked and Sirius told Harry more about his childhood, which Harry loved to hear about. He loved everything about Sirius, past and present. He loved...

He loved him.

Bliss was always short-lived for Harry.

Sirius paused and took a deep breath, frowning at Harry seriously. "Listen, Harry..." he began, and Harry held his breath. Would Sirius be able to love him back? Harry thought, then told himself not to get his hopes up.

"I think, I mean, I've been meaning to tell you - well, ever since I got back from the dead and I woke up and saw you, really - I think... don't freak out, okay? I - "

A loud, booming clap of thunder interrupted them.

Above the sky lighted with flickering red lightning. Sirius grabbed onto Harry first, gripping him around the shoulders in protection. Sirius's naked form was up against Harry's - but Harry refused to think about that now, because a dark figure was appearing about five metres above them. Red, slitted eyes watched them in malevolent glee, and thin lips pulled back from pointed teeth. The shiny bald head of Lord Voldemort was shiny in the moonlight, and his robes rippled over the wind.

"Finally," he rasped evilly, "I have found you, Harry Potter!"

"Bully for you!" shouted Sirius. "Can't you see we're having a moment? Piss off!"

Harry stared at Voldemort, his jaw clenched and his scar flaring in pain. He tore his attention from him and focused on Sirius.

"Listen to me," Harry told Sirius desperately. "Whatever happens tonight, I want you to know, I love you, okay?" And because time had decided to join the Dark Side that evening, Harry kissed Sirius hard and breathlessly.

"Aw," cooed Voldemort, "the sodomites share one last kiss. And such a stunning performance, I almost regret not bringing an audience."

Oh god, Harry thought, his lips are so soft and he's so beautiful, why oh why did our first kiss have to have such bad timing? Harry pulled away a little, and nuzzled Sirius's face with his eyes squeezed shut.

"Oh by the way, Potter," Voldemort continued, "did you like my little present? A skinny little nobody is nothing without his magic. And now you're just a Squib with no friends and dead parents. How does that make you feel?"

Sirius gasped and looked at Harry searchingly. "Voldemort took your powers away?"

"No," said Harry steadily, "Voldemort's not _that_ powerful. He likes to think he is, but something tells me he had to get someone else's help this time."

Voldemort abruptly hissed loudly. "You little shit!"

Harry looked up at him again. "Shut up! The only way you could find a way to hurt me was to take advantage of an offer from a god you don't even care about. I bet it wasn't even your spell, was it? Running around, year after year trying to kill a little boy and you fail, again and again. You're PATHETIC!"

"How dare you, you insolent little brat! You think you can evade me? Well this time - this time, I'd like to see you try - !"

Voldemort was off on a rant again, predictably. Sirius was shaking in Harry's arms and the water seemed that much colder suddenly, the wind biting at their faces. Harry grabbed Sirius's hand and threaded their fingers. He pulled their arms up and Harry pointed to the sky -

" - And this time you will not get away, because I will kill you, kill kill kill! You are so going to DIE! RIGHT NOW - !"

"AVADA KEDAVRA!"

Harry had cast the spell but it was Sirius who had obviously felt it. His skin lit up as a bright green for a second and he threw his head back. Green light shot up from their joined hands and hit the now screaming Voldemort.

Voldemort frizzled and shuddered in the air before bursting into fire, his screams rolling into pained gurgles. Finally he exploded like fireworks until only a ball of red energy lingered in the sky.

What's that? Harry was about to say. He got a shock instead as the red ball of energy flew at him at top speed and hit him right in the chest, propelling him backwards deep into the water. He gasped for air and struggled against the rocking water and he had been ripped away from Sirius - and this must be the end, he thought, he would never see his beloved again...

The ocean was quite silent, really. But then there was this strange clicking and whining sound, high pitched like a dog. It was getting louder and Harry somehow felt the movement of many bodies swimming nearby. He opened his eyes.

The light of the moon lit up the water as something blue and vast. The shadows swimming around him had a form now - oh, they were beautiful, how deep was he? - dolphins, they had to be dolphins. Harry's glasses had long gone by now, but not his will to live. The dolphins were whining to him, telling him someone was waiting for him at the rippling surface, and the jellyfish kept swimming around him in silent contemplation.

Sirius dived. For a moment his eyes were bright lights in Harry's darkness. His inky black hair undulated around his striking face and the moonlight refracted through the water to make patterns across his bare skin.

Sirius grabbed Harry around the waist and pulled him up.

They broke the surface together and gasped for air.

- - -

Harry sat in the spa bath and watched red magic crackle and swirl around his water-wrinkled fingers. Sirius was across from him, watching.

Harry reached out to him, and Sirius did too, a second later. Green and red magic fizzled between their hands.

- - -

Harry laid Sirius down on the bed like a much-loved doll. Sirius was always watching, uncharacteristically silent and awed.

Harry kissed him and kissed him again, over and over. He spread Sirius's thighs open gently and thought, I'm home, this is home.

Outside the ocean crashed its waves against the rocks then pulled away again. Other waves rolled nearby and waited their turn to break and froth. The sea sighed with contentment as it was able to caress the golden expanse of sand, touch every crevice and orifice of the rocks on the cliffs. Some waves thrust long and slowly, pushing in then pulling away. Then they would thrust fast and faster and cry with the pleasure of moisture on land.

The waves came and came and came.

A seagull cried blissfully as he flew across the sky.

There was peace.

_Hebrew: Emeth, Yoffy, Chofesh, Ahava_

Translation: Truth, Beauty, Freedom, Love

**End. **

Author's Notes (dentedsky):  
I'm not sure if Perth is the most isolated city in the world, but that is what people call it sometimes. It may be the most isolated Western civilisation city, say.  
Also, Perth and Fremantle are full of Brits, because it used to be the easiest place to sail to when people sailed to Australia (or something like that). That's why the hotel receptionist, Mr Man, was a Brit.  
"Boss" is an old 1970s term for "cool".  
And I thought of the cat-in-spell-thingy BEFORE I saw Constantine!  
The four chapter titles was from my favourite movie Moulin Rouge, translated into Hebrew by Ann.  
Well besides all that, hope youse liked it!

Please review like crazy! We really really love your feedback.


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